Power of Words
by ann no aku
Summary: The Doctor goes back in time to 1994 to see Rose one final time, still haunted by memories of her. When he arrives, he realizes that someone has taken books and brought them to life in particular, the Harry Potter books.
1. Last Chance

Power of Words

Power of Words

By: ann no aku

**Plot**: The Doctor goes back in time to 1994 to see Rose one final time, still haunted by memories of her. When he arrives, he realizes that someone has taken books and brought them to life (in particular, the Harry Potter books). The Doctor decides to go straight to the source at Hogwarts, infiltrating to figure out what has happened. On his way, he bumps into Dumbledore, whom seems aware that he is a book character. Dumbledore urges the Doctor to help set the world right, all while still playing a key role in the events that occur. Under Dumbledore's guidance and suggestion, the Doctor becomes the new DADA professor at Hogwarts, looking not quite like himself all the time.

**Author's Notes**: This story takes place during Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (1994) and after the Doctor Who Christmas Special "Voyage of the Damned".

**Chapter One**

**Last Chance**

He lost Rose to a parallel world because of the Daleks and Cybermen, he lost Donna Noble to . ..well . .he didn't know what, exactly, he lost Martha to her family, and he lost Astrid Perth to Max Capricorn. How many more people would he meet only to die or fear him? The Doctor couldn't stand the loneliness, the constant reminder that he really was the last of his kind. He winced as he recalled the Master, and how he had died in his arms.

Against his own better judgment, the Doctor set the controls to 1994, sometime in the middle of summer. "Oh, I am going to regret this," he mumbled to himself. "Still, if Jack Harkness could do it, why can't I?" Looking away, he banged his large mallet on a button. As if the TARDIS was warning him, it spun through the air, knocking him off his feet and headlong into the grated metal floor.

What felt like hours later, the Doctor awoke, surprised to find warm blood trickling down the side of his face. "You know, I don't hurt you!" he yelled at his TARDIS, instantly thinking of how hard he had hit his ship with the mallet. "Okay, okay, fine. So I was a little over eager. You didn't have to make me bleed!" Grabbing his coat and stuffing his sonic screwdriver in his inner pocket, he opened the door and wished he had someone to share the feeling with. "New time, new world. Never changes."

With a smile plastered on his face, he made his way down the street Rose's apartment was on, eager to see her as a child. _I'm far enough in her past so that she won't remember me when she sees me in the future. Just a glimpse, I can't risk having the Reapers show up._ He walked past children running and screaming outside, playing games with each other. "I just love England like this, all perfect and brilliant! Not an alien in sight! Well, except for me, but well-!" He followed closely behind a family, leading the way to the apartment complex.

"Mummy, it isn't fair! Why can't I go to Hogwarts, too? Where's my letter?"

"What?" he said to himself, wondering if he had heard correctly. "I must've hit my head harder than I thought."

"Quiet! We do not talk about these things in public!" the mother scolded her young daughter.

"Yeah, if you talk about it, I'm allowed to turn you into a toad!" a tall boy said, smugly smirking.

"And you, Dean, keep that to yourself! You're scaring your cousin!"

"What?" the Doctor repeated, staring in shock at the family.

"But Mummy, I want to go! I want to meet Harry Potter! I want to go to the Quidditch World Cup-"

"Angela, I said stop it! Now we are going to have lunch with Mrs. Smith at Royal Hope Hospital, you can play with Mickey and his friend Rose. You're the same age, you and Rose are."

"What?" he said again, momentarily questioning his sanity.

"I don't like Mrs. Smith, she's old!" Angela whined, tugging on her mother's hand to pull her back.

"I bet she's a witch, too. Poor Mickey didn't get his letter, either," Dean stated, raising his fingers and waving them threateningly at Angela.

"Dean Thomas! Aren't you a little old to be scaring eight year olds? Mrs. Smith is injured, and you're poking fun at her!" his aunt chided, pausing only to smack him on the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"WHAT?! This can't be happening; this just cannot be! Harry Potter is a fictional character!"

At the mention of Harry's name and the Doctor's shouts, the family turned around to face him.

"Hello there," the aunt greeted. "Are you alright? You're bleeding."

"No, yes. I mean, I'm fine, but something's not right." He struggled for words, clutching his head between his hands.

"Come with us. I am sure Jackie can make you a cup of tea and clean up your wound. I'm Cassandra Thomas, my daughter Angela, and her cousin Dean. We're just popping over to Jackie's for a bit; she's taking care of Mrs. Smith. She had a nasty fall the other day down the stairs. We're all going to go see her at the hospital together." She advanced toward him, a hand outstretched to help the Doctor.

"I've had Jackie's tea before, that's not what I need," he mumbled incoherently. "No! Don't touch me! You-you can't touch me."

"He's a nutter!" Dean exclaimed, laughing.

"You-you . . .you cannot be. This can't be real."

"What are you talking about? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" Cassandra inquired, her hand still reaching out for him.

"I _am_ a doctor!" he hissed through his teeth, his fingers still stuck in his hair. "Just, please, don't touch me." _They're not real,_ he told himself. _Who knows what will happen if I touch one of them._

"Dean, go fetch Ms. Tyler," his aunt commanded. "It's okay; I am here to help you. What's your name? What happened to you? Why are you bleeding?"

"Oi, what are you doing down there for, Cassie?" a voice called from over the balcony. "Come on up!"

"I know that voice," he whispered to himself fearfully.

"Yes, that's Jackie Tyler. Do you know her?" Cassandra turned around to face Jackie. "I have an injured man here! Do you think he could nip in for a minute for a cup of tea and to get cleaned up? I think he may have a concussion!"

With the word "man" uttered, Jackie's face broke into a large grin. "Send him up; I have just the cure for an injured man!"

"Oh, no. No no no no no no no no no no!"

"Dean, I thought I told you to get Jackie!" Cassandra shouted at her nephew, using the opportunity to smack him upside the head again.

"Ouch! Merlin's beard, Aunt Cassie, she's right there! She's heard the whole thing!" He rubbed his short hair, glaring at his aunt, his eyes stinging from embarrassment.

"And stop that nonsense! What did I tell you about that?" She hit him repeatedly with her purse. "Do you want everyone thinking you're a nutter?"

"Er, could you stop that, please?" the Doctor requested, surprised to see them staring at him with confused looks on their faces. Dean was nursing his injuries quietly. "I just really don't like seeing people get hurt."

"He's not _really_ hurt, are you, Dean?" Cassandra argued, looking concerned. "Besides, he's just being a silly boy. Come on, then. Come meet Jackie; she can get you all better. She's single, you know."

"Now that's enough!" the Doctor bellowed, completely disgusted by the thought of being set up with Jackie Tyler. "I'm leaving!"

"But you're hurt!"

"I don't care! Give Mrs. Smith my condolences." He turned to walk away, but stopped short. "Tell her," he began hesitantly, "tell her to be careful going down the stairs in the future."

"I'm sure she will. Mrs. Smith is going to have Mickey fix it."

"Right." Without another look back, and feeling vaguely unsatisfied from having not seen Rose and destroying his last chance, the Doctor re-entered his TARDIS to try and solve the mystery of why Harry Potter book characters were existing in the real world.


	2. Wizard Shakespeare

Power of Words

Power of Words

By: ann no aku

**Plot**: The Doctor goes back in time to 1994 to see Rose one final time, still haunted by memories of her. When he arrives, he realizes that someone has taken books and brought them to life (in particular, the Harry Potter books). The Doctor decides to go straight to the source at Hogwarts, infiltrating to figure out what has happened. On his way, he bumps into Dumbledore, whom seems aware that he is a book character. Dumbledore urges the Doctor to help set the world right, all while still playing a key role in the events that occur. Under Dumbledore's guidance and suggestion, the Doctor becomes the new DADA professor at Hogwarts, looking not quite like himself all the time.

**Author's Notes**: This story takes place during Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (1994) and after the Doctor Who Christmas Special "Voyage of the Damned".

**Chapter Two**

**Wizard Shakespeare**

"I hate having to solve this stuff on my own," the Doctor grumbled as he stared at his monitor with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "What is going on? Where is all this energy coming from?" He banged on the screen in frustration as the image became wibbly-wabbly then changed to a castle.

"Ah ha! Yes, of course! Where else? At the _source_! I'm going to Hogwarts!" He jumped up in the air, excited at the prospect of being able to see the magical school he had read about. "But where is it?" The Doctor racked his brain for coordinates of where the school was located. "Think, think. It's unplottable, has magic repelling Muggles—but I'm no Muggle, I'm a Timelord! And I have a spaceship!"

Hastily, he skidded across the floor and stopped in front of the lever to activate the engine. "I can't believe this, I'm going to Hogwarts! Oh, Martha would have loved this." The TARDIS disappeared from the street corner and reappeared over the northern part of England, spinning wildly as it floated above hills and rivers. "Come on, come on. Look for it! Find the energy source! Lock onto it!" he shouted, mashing more buttons with every appendage he could spare.

"There you go. Safe and hidden . . . .where?" He folded his glasses together, stuffed them in his pocket, and grabbed his trusty brown jacket. The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS, only to have it stuck and hitting something solid. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Lucky for me I'm skinny." With some difficulty that involved his long coat to get stuck on the TARDIS, the Doctor managed to free himself from the confines of his police box only to find himself locked in a broom closet.

"Of all the secret rooms and hidden passages in this school and I get locked in a cupboard!" He tugged on the handle, tried his sonic screwdriver on it, but to no avail. "Open sesame! Oh, what's that spell?" He pointed his screwdriver at the door and whispered, "Alohamora!"

"What? But that was just a-" he stopped dead as the door creaked open.

"May I offer you some assistance in breaking and entering into Hogwarts?" a tall man with a long white beard and hair asked. He inspected the Doctor with bright blue eyes sparkling over his half-moon spectacles. His wand was still pointed at the door, and it dawned on the Doctor how it really opened.

"Well, I, you know-"

"I am surprised. I didn't think it could be done. How did you do it?"

"Ahem, can't tell you that. It might, er, change things." He slipped his sonic device back into his pocket.

Dumbledore just stared patiently at him as though he had all the time in the world. An amused smile formed on his mouth. "And what's your name, Mister-?"

"Doctor."

"Mister Doctor?"

"No, just Doctor, actually. People just call me the Doctor." With both hands in his pockets, he leaned back on his heels and whistled uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I forgot, old wizard brain, anyway, what's your, er, position here?"

Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I'm the headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

"Right, right. Sorry." He lightly punched his forehead. "I knew that. I did. I know all about you. Frankly, I am a little surprised to see you here. Isn't it the summer time? School won't be in session for, oh, a month or so."

"You were expecting to find the school empty, Doctor?" Dumbledore asked, his voice light but something accusatory hidden in his old voice.

"Well, yeah, basically. I'm quite used to breaking and entering. Frankly, I can't recall the last time I've been caught this early on." He smiled his boyish grin, not looking the least bit nervous for being apprehended.

"What are you doing here, Doctor?"

"Again, can't tell you. I don't think J.K. would like it too much if she knew what was going on."

"Are you referring to the _author_, Doctor?" Albus asked, catching the Doctor's full attention.

"How do you know about that?"

"I'm exceptionally clever, Doctor, quite like yourself it seems. I know who and _what_ I am. I'm the only one who does."

"Yes! Of course! You're a genius! You're like Einstein, no he had a fling with Marilyn Monroe—not you're type, by the way. You're like Shakespeare! You understand the power of words. Oh my God, I can't believe it! A wizard Shakespeare! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! You know, I met Shakespeare once. Well, twice. Three if you count that one time," he stopped as he caught the headmaster's gaze again. "Anyway, so nice to meet you, Professor, er-"

"Dumbledore," he repeated. "Come to my office, Doctor, we have much to discuss."

"I get to see your office? Brilliant! I love magic."

"But first, let's go see Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing."

"What? Why? It's not your hand, is it?" The Doctor clamped a firm hand across his mouth. "I didn't say that. And I didn't say that I didn't say it. As a matter of fact, I'm not saying anything! Just ignore me."

"As much as I wish I could ignore your babbles, Doctor, I already know about my hand. We are going to the hospital wing for you head. Did you know that you're bleeding?" Dumbledore asked, pointing to the side of the Doctor's head.

"Yes, yes, I know. I never got around to cleaning it off," he replied dismissively, trying to wave off the headmaster's hand.

"No one offered to help you?"

"Stop that. Just stop it! I know what you're doing; you're using your legilimens to read my thoughts. But you're not _real_, so it shouldn't work."

"Magic is real, Doctor, whether it is in the form of a book, words, or science." He eyed the broom cupboard, then the Doctor's pocket. "Come along then, Doctor."

"Right, allons-y, Alonz-" he caught himself. "You're name isn't Alonzo, is it?" he asked apologetically.

"Afraid not. It's Albus."

"Right, keep forgetting. Sorry. I met an Alonzo right before coming here; finally got to say 'allons-y, Alonzo'." The Doctor stopped reminiscing long enough to catch the headmaster's warning stare. "Well, allons-y, Albus!"


	3. Reluctant Request

Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Reluctant Request**

Dumbledore seated himself in the tall chair behind his desk and motioned for the Doctor to sit across from him. "Doctor, someone or something has taken books and brought them to life. From what I can tell, only the Harry Potter series exist in the real world."

"When did this all start?" the Doctor inquired, quickly taking out his glasses and poking around the office instead of sitting as Dumbledore had offered.

"When do you think it started, Doctor?"

The Doctor paused in his study to tap his sonic screwdriver against his chin. "1981, then again in 1991, that's when Harry Potter came into being in the books."

"Yes."

"But, then, this has been going on for _years_! No one has noticed? No one has said anything?"

"The books weren't published until June 1997. That is the future of this world," Dumbledore explained calmly.

"Professor, why _these_ books? What is so significant about them?" He picked up a book from one of my many shelves in Dumbledore's office. "Ah, The Beetle and the Bard. I love this book."

"You can read ancient runes?"

"Well, not exactly. You see, my, er-"

"Spaceship."

"Yes, spaceship translates all languages—what a minute! How do you know about that?" he demanded, snapping the book shut. He shoved it hastily back onto the shelf.

"Doctor, we are both clever men beyond our time." Dumbledore sighed deeply, looking older than ever. "I know what is to come. I do not know why, perhaps it is because I am considered the most powerful wizard by many. Doctor, I implore you; the world needs to be set right. I know you can help, Timelord of Gallifrey."

"You can't know that! You aren't real!" the Doctor exploded. He ran over to the desk and slammed his shaking hands down on it. "You are a character from a book!"

"Am I not real, Doctor? Somebody conceived me, somebody created me. I exist in the hearts and minds of children and adults all over the world." He steepled his long fingers together and perched them under his chin. "You are a man from another world, another time, the only other person in this entire world whom knows what is to come. I need your help, Doctor, to put everything right."

"I can't help you, Professor." The Doctor slumped tiredly into the chair, his long legs thrown over the arm. "What if I do something and it changes the course of the books? I don't want to go back to the future only to hear that Voldemort survives after all. No, I like happy endings, thanks."

"Like I said, Doctor, I know what is to come," the headmaster began. "I think you were always meant to come here. If I can offer you my personal guarantee that you will not change anything at all, will you help us, Doctor?"

"I don't see how I can! I've read all the books, Professor! Nowhere in the books does it say that the Doctor saved the day."

"Perhaps, Doctor, that is because you don't save the day as you." Dumbledore smiled at him, his eyes hinting at something the Doctor couldn't understand.

"What are you talking about?" He picked his head up from the side of the chair after having absentmindedly studying the ceiling.

"Think for a minute, please, Doctor. What happens during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts?"

"There's the, er, Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort returns, and," he paused, "there's a spy at Hogwarts."

"Yes, there is a spy at Hogwarts," Dumbledore agreed, smiling that the Doctor was cottoning on. "I would like you to be that spy, Doctor. We both know who it is—a man no one has seen for years, nobody knows what he looks like except his father. His father dies."

"Yes, by the spy, by Bartemius Crouch, Jr.! Sorry, but I don't do the whole killing thing, Professor," he argued, leaping up from the chair.

"I don't either, Doctor. You know that." Dumbledore stood slowly from his desk and walked over to a bookshelf. He plucked a thick book out from between six others. "Do you know what this is, Doctor?"

"It's the fourth book," he gasped, snatching the book from the headmaster's hands. He flipped through it quickly, staring in horror at each blank page. "It's empty!"

"Turn to the end of the book."

"But it's empty!" he repeated, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to scan the pages.

"Not yet, Doctor," Dumbledore ordered, placing a calm hand on the Doctor's. "Please, turn to the end of the book."

Reluctantly, he did as requested. "There's nothing here!"

"Keep looking."

"What? This doesn't make sense! This is impossible!" He perused the pages about Lily and James Potter coming back from the dead as imprints to help Harry in his battle with Voldemort. "But this hasn't happened yet!"

"Correct, Doctor, but they are dead."

"They are not dead because they never existed!"

"Doctor, please!" Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a hand to silence him. "It is my belief that when we 'die', we are put back into the books where we should be. As you can see, Lily and James Potter are existing in the books. They are not dead."

"I'm not going to kill anyone, Professor. I don't care that you are just characters in a book, I refuse to let anyone cease to be."

"I am not asking you to kill anyone, Doctor." He smiled sadly at him, the twinkle in his eyes barely there. "You are such a wonderful doctor, always looking out for those whom need help and never asking for anything in return. You have spent years making up for what you had to do to end your war, and as a result you are all alone with no one to share the burden of what you've had to endure. I know that, to you, I am just a character in a book, Doctor, but I cannot think of anyone whom understands what you have had to go through more than I. We both know what I've endured; we both know how similar we are." Tentatively, he took the book from the Doctor's hands and placed it carefully back onto the shelf.

"I shouldn't exist, Doctor, none of us should. I am asking, rather reluctantly, for you to help us. Solve the mystery behind this spell and set this world right. Take Barty Crouch Jr.'s place, and become the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor as Alastor Moody."


End file.
